


in a safe house singing

by changgus



Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Multi, body image issues, food as a love language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28198983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/changgus/pseuds/changgus
Summary: They can’t stop Hongseok from doing his diets but theycanmake sure there’s something good waiting on the other end, make sure that he’s taken care of when he’s ready.
Relationships: Ko Shinwon/Yang Hongseok/Yeo Changgu | Yeo One
Comments: 15
Kudos: 36
Collections: Constellations Fest for Pentagon





	in a safe house singing

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt was something along the lines of 'shinwon and changgu are worried about hongseok's diet, so they call his mom to get one of his favorite recipes'
> 
> huge huge thank you to everyone who held my hand through writing this and to the mod of this fest for putting it all together and, of course, to everyone who's ever posted a samgyetang recipe video. hope y'all enjoy!!
> 
> CW for talk of dieting and restriction, i wasn't quite sure how to tag for it but it is definitely a theme here so if that is something that is triggering for you please just be aware!

“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.” - Ursula K. Le Guin

Shinwon doesn’t think he’s ever spent this much time in the kitchen. It’s part of the apartment, sure, but he only really sees it to grab a box of juice from the fridge or throw leftover take-out into the microwave. It’s not _his_ space.

On the shelf above the sink there’s three different Cookie Monster mugs clean and drying. Underneath them, a stack of cereal boxes in various states of opened. Giant containers of protein powder, the air fryer in the corner. The kitchen in their dorm is a used space, it’s a loved space, it is just not Shinwon’s.

He spends most of his time at home in the living room, in Hongseok’s bedroom, stealing kisses over the bathroom sink in the morning.

Changgu has not spent much time in their kitchen either, mainly because this is not his dorm, despite how often he is here - in the living room, in Hongseok’s bedroom, stealing kisses over the bathroom sink in the morning. He looks right though, an apron tied around his waist as he clears more space on the counter for them to work. Next to his elbow is the silver bowl he’d used to soak the rice. In his hands he’s got the kitchen scissors and the cornish hen they’d picked out at the market. He’s got his phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder as it rings. 

“Ah, eomeonim, sorry to bother you again.” Shinwon is leaning against the counter behind Changgu but can still see the way his polite smile blooms as Hongseok’s mom’s voice filters through the speaker.

Shinwon can’t quite make out what she’s saying beyond the lilt of her voice but he watches as Changgu follows whatever her instructions are, motions for Shinwon to hand him things as he runs through a series of rapid-fire questions. He laughs at something she says and his cheeks round with it.

They’ve been doing this on and off all day, the two of them moving around each other in the tight kitchen space. Shinwon grabbing things off the taller shelves, Changgu ducking under his arms to reach something else. Changgu chops the ginseng and the garlic while Shinwon salts the chicken. This is the third time they’ve called Hongseok’s mother to check her recipe and she is just as gentle with them now as she was the first.

The plan started like this - Hongseok walked into the practice room with nothing but a change of clothes and a water bottle he did not touch. When they’d all gone out to eat after, he’d talked the loudest to distract from his empty plate. At home later he’d sat under the single kitchen light and opened up his carefully portioned tupperware from the fridge. Plain chicken breast, plain rice, not too much of either. If he felt he’d been good enough he might allow himself an egg.

Shinwon sat across from him while he ate and tried not to worry too loudly, Hongseok tangled their ankles together under the table.

It hadn’t been the first time he’d committed himself to an extreme diet but it never felt any better to watch him do it. Hongseok is stubborn as a brick, once he’s set his mind to something it’s over. Shinwon can be much the same. Learning to make it work has been a curve.

Changgu hip checks Shinwon lightly, still on the phone with Hongseok’s mom, as he shifts to grab another spoon out of the drawer. He’s doing most of the heavy lifting on the actual cooking, though Shinwon has full plans to take over for the gyeranmari when it’s time. It’s one of the only things he knows how to make confidently, and knows how Hongseok likes it too.

“Did Hyunggu text yet?” Changgu covers the bottom of his phone with his hand for a moment to address Shinwon. 

That had been Shinwon’s other main job. Changgu had come up with the idea to cook, to make something special. Shinwon had to get Hongseok out of the house. 

“Yeah, he said we’ve got an hour. He also said that we owe him a huge favor and he better come home to a clean house, no funny business.”

“That was _one_ time.” Changgu hisses, hand still cupped firmly over the speaker.

Shinwon shrugs his shoulders like it’s nothing. Changgu looks him over for one more moment, ears red, before he returns to his call and has Hongseok’s mom guide him through stuffing the chicken - the exact order the ingredients should go in, how much. It’s a lot of thoughtful humming on Changgu’s end.

They can’t stop Hongseok from doing his diets but they _can_ make sure there’s something good waiting on the other end, make sure that he’s taken care of when he’s ready.

So even though Changgu’s hands slip when he’s trying to thread one chicken leg through the slit he’d cut in the skin on the opposite side and Shinwon nearly splashes them both when he drops the whole thing into the pot, here they are. Shoulder to shoulder, learning together. Changgu hip checks Shinwon again but this time it’s with one of his soft little smiles. 

“She said to check it after ten, but I think we’re mostly good to go.” He says on his way to wash his hands. 

“I think he’s starting to get cranky, or suspicious.” Shinwon says, wrapping his arms around Changgu’s waist at the sink. Sometimes it still blows Shinwon’s mind how easy it is to do this, how natural it feels to tip up just the little bit to press a kiss into the top of Changgu’s head.

“Hongseokie hyung or Hyunggu?”

Shinwon barks out a laugh. “Both, probably.”

Outside it’s started to storm, a holdover as the summer bleeds out into fall, one of the last truly hot days. The rain bounces off the patio glass and drips gray down the kitchen window. It’d been overcast all day but the clouds have finally burst, swollen and loud. It’s the kind of day Shinwon would rather spend in bed, his boys wrapped around him.

He knows from his texts with Hyunggu that he has Hongseok holed up in their third cafe of the day, one that had been on Hongseok’s impossibly long list of cafes marked as ‘Wanna Go’ on one of his review apps.

It’d been nice in the morning when they’d put part one of the plan into motion, sun streaking hot and bright anywhere it could slide its fingers into their apartment. It’d been easier to peel apart then, the three of them too sweaty together in Hongseok’s bed even with the sheets kicked all the way down to the bottom. Shinwon has a vague memory of knocking Hongseok out of bed and onto his ass.

They don’t often get days off and even when they do it’s hard to halt the momentum long enough to stay still.

Hyunggu, for his part, had been great at making the subtle but scripted suggestion for plans over his morning tea. Not that he had to try very hard, it was hard to say no to Hyunggu.

Changgu’s timer goes off after ten minutes and he ladles the chicken fat out of the broth just like he’d been told to. He puts the lid back on the pot and resets his timer for another fifty. It should be perfect timing.

“Doesn’t the smell remind you of being a kid?” Changgu asks when they settle into the couch in the living room to wait. There’s no use getting anything else ready until they’ve at least heard from Hyunggu again.

“Yeah,” Shinwon shifts so he can tug Changgu back against his chest.

The smell reminds him of sitting in the kitchen at his parents, tugging on his sister’s hair during that time before they realized it was more fun to be friends. His father at the stove, his mother coming over to pinch his cheek and tell his sister to stop teasing, even if he’d been the one to start it. 

It reminds him, too, of the summer before. Of sitting in the living room of their last apartment before they’d moved, of Hongseok in the kitchen, at the stove. It was hot then too, everyone feeling too weighed down by the humidity to do more than drape themselves over various pieces of furniture in as little clothing as possible and pray the box fan in the corner of the living room reached them. Still, Hongseok had set himself up at the counter to make sure everybody ate.

They weren’t together yet then, not the way they are now, but Shinwon thinks maybe part of him knew even then that that was love.

Hyunggu texts after another half hour, says he couldn’t drag it out anymore without Hongseok knowing he was up to something. Shinwon pushes himself off the couch to go start chopping scallions and bell peppers for the eggs.

Back when they were even more piled on top of each other than they are now, Shinwon used to make this for Wooseok before he’d get him up for school, for church. It’s an easy enough recipe but more than that it’s one Shinwon has practiced. His sister had told him once, folding the eggs carefully with a set of wooden chopsticks, that he should at least know how to make _something_ so he wouldn’t starve to death when he moved out. It hadn’t felt important then but it does now.

The rain is still going against the window, but it’s eased into something lighter. Shinwon dices up the vegetables carefully, minding his curled fingers, and Changgu flits around pulling out a bowl for the soup, a smaller dish for the eggs, for the kimchi. There’s a big jar in the fridge that Hwitaek’s mother had brought them the last time she came to visit. 

When Shinwon was really little and his family would splurge and go out to eat, his dad would always say _we can make this at home_.

“Is the pan above the sink?” Changgu asks, reaching up before Shinwon can even turn to reply.

“Yeah, should be.”

It is, though buried under several other pieces of cookware only Hongseok tends to use, and Changgu pulls it down for him. He sets it on the burner next to where the pot is still going so it’ll be set when Shinwon is ready for it.

Shinwon’s hand slips on a bell pepper and he doesn’t cut himself but there’s that moment where his heart is beating like he might have. Changgu curls one hand around his elbow, the other around his wrist so he can hold Shinwon’s hand up to the light and check.

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a sincere pout even though Shinwon’s hand is perfectly, completely fine.

“I’ll live.” Shinwon pecks him quickly, just because.

He’s adding the second round of eggs to the pan, folding them into the rest of the omelette, when they hear the jingle of the front door lock.

“That kid,” Hongseok’s voice rings out from the front hall, interlaced with the sounds of him slipping off his shoes, putting down his bag. “Had me running around all day in the _rain_ and then just ditches me.”

Shinwon freezes with his chopsticks mid-fold and makes eye contact with Changgu who’d been reaching to pull the lid off the pot, steam leaking out into the kitchen. There’s a moment of them just frantically looking at each other, trying to communicate something but ending up just looking a little bit constipated. Changgu’s phone timer goes off on the counter.

“Shinwon-ah, are you-oh.” Hongseok appears in the kitchen doorway then, his hair hanging damp in his face. He’s in the same t-shirt and shorts he’d been in when he’d left that morning but they’re clinging to him now. “Are you...cooking?”

He looks confused, one hand hanging on the doorframe, his eyebrows knit together. And it’s not like they can blame him, when the only reason Shinwon knew where the pan was was because he’d thought he’d spotted it during all his efforts that morning to find a pot for the soup. 

They stare back at him in different states of wide-eyed and it’s only when there’s a sizzling sound, followed by Changgu’s elbow to Shinwon’s side and a hushed whisper of _your eggs_ that anyone stirs back into action.

“We wanted to surprise you.” Changgu says finally, wiping his hands off on his apron before turning off his side of the stove. “I thought the timing would be better, when Hyunggu tex-well, anyway, it’ll still be hot. That’s what matters.”

“You’re cooking...for _me_?”

There’s a low rumble of distant thunder just under the silence and Hongseok is doing that thing where he’s trying so hard not to smile that his whole face is pulling from it, mouth twitching at the corner. 

Shinwon’s whole chest feels warm at the sight of it, like there’s a bonfire right in the middle of him, but what he says is “Yeah, so get out of our kitchen.”

“Wow,” Hongseok lets out a low whistle. “Gone for one day and it’s _your_ kitchen. Are you two feeling okay?”

He can’t help his smile now, cracking open like the storm clouds outside, revealing the line of his crooked teeth and it takes so much self control for Shinwon not to beam back at him. Okay, so he does, a little bit.

“We’d feel better if you’d go sit down _anywhere_ else.” Shinwon replies nodding his head in the direction of the living room. 

Hongseok lingers in the doorway for a minute just watching them, watching Shinwon scoot his carefully rolled eggs onto the dish Changgu had set out for him, watching Changgu carefully maneuver the chicken out of the pot and into the bowl. 

“You guys didn’t have to do this, you know.” Hongseok says and it’s quiet, none of his usual joking tone, nothing couched in something else.

“We wanted to.” Changgu’s tone is firm as he garnishes the samgyetang with a sprinkle of spring onion. He turns to look at Hongseok properly when he’s finished. “Besides, it wasn’t all us. Your mom helped a lot, Hyunggu too.”

“My mom?”

“Well, neither of us had made it before-” Shinwon starts but then he sees the watery look in Hongseok’s eyes, the way his face softens.

“She basically held my hand through it.” Changgu adds. If Hongseok cries, Changgu will surely follow and Hongseok’s face is starting to get red from the effort. Shinwon doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like what he feels when he looks at the two of them.

Hongseok enters the kitchen fully and pulls both of them down into him with his arms wrapped around their shoulders. They stand there like that, just holding each other, being held by each other. Shinwon can feel Hongseok’s uneven breathing in the crook of his neck.

“Hyung, the food’s gonna get cold.” Shinwon laughs but it comes out less steady than he’d meant it to.

“Okay,” Hongseok says, smacking a kiss into Shinwon’s cheek. He turns his head so he can get Changgu too. “Okay.”

This time when Shinwon tries to shuffle him into the living room, he actually listens. They trail behind, hands full of dishes, and spread out around the coffee table on the floor. This apartment actually has AC and it hums above their heads. 

Changgu keeps folding and refolding his hands nervously. Shinwon brushes his hand through his bangs twice. Hongseok picks up his chopsticks.

It’s a funny thing watching Hongseok pick apart a piece of chicken thigh with the metal of his chopsticks and feeling like he is picking apart a piece of Shinwon’s heart. Shinwon is good at taking care of his people, he thinks, or he tries anyway. It’s how he knows to operate, but even so there’s a part of him that thinks Hongseok might sit here and hate what they’ve put in front of him. He knows it’s not rational. He knows that.

Hongseok hums around the first bite and closes his eyes. 

Shinwon doesn’t realize he’s been holding his breath until Changgu exhales across the table from him and Hongseok says “It’s perfect.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, here.” Hongseok picks another piece of chicken off, taps it into the little mixture of salt and pepper and sesame seeds, and holds his hand carefully under it until Shinwon takes the hint and leans in to pull it off with his mouth.

Shinwon is surprised to find that it actually does taste good. Maybe not _perfect_ , not quite like having one their moms make it, but definitely good.

Hongseok prepares a bite for Changgu too and there, on his face, is that same delighted surprise. Changgu tilts his head and him and Shinwon give each other twin looks of _We did that._ They did, in fact, have a plan B just in case. It involved a lot of pretending this never happened and ordering take-out from Hongseok’s favorite place instead. But this is better, definitely better.

Hongseok hums again around another bite, shaking his fists while he chews. He digs into the gyeranmari too. Shinwon feels particularly proud of the sound he makes over that.

“Your mom said something about adding pine nuts to the broth, but we forgot to get them.” Changgu says, almost regretfully, but his shoulders have relaxed and he’s settled one hand on Hongseok’s thigh comfortably now. “I think we’ll have to try that next time.”

“Maybe next time we can try together.” Hongseok replies with his cheeks full.

They sit there like that until Hongseok’s done and it’s easy. He tells them about the cafes Hyunggu took him to, pulls up a picture on his phone to show them this one latte art where they printed a selfie of the two of them right onto the foam, an egg tart from another place that had a particularly golden crust.

After Hongseok has completely finished, Changgu insists on being the one to clean up. They stand around in the kitchen together and let music play from Changgu’s phone on the counter.

When a particularly slow song comes on, Hongseok takes Changgu by one of his soapy hands and spins him out dramatically into the center of the kitchen, pulls him back into his chest. He kisses him on the return, open mouthed and slow. Changgu laughs into it and in the break, Hongseok reaches out to pull Shinwon in too.

“Thank you,” Hongseok says, when he’s kissed them both until he’s had his fill of that too. “Really, thank you.”

“Of course.” Changgu says and it also carries the meaning of always, of anytime.

The song turns to something jazzier and Shinwon dips Changgu and almost drops him and they all laugh, deep and warm. He helps Changgu finish the dishes after that, hip to hip at the sink. Hongseok sings along to the next song while they work. 

Falling in love with one of his members had felt dangerous, falling in love with two had felt like stepping off the end of a pier into water so dark he couldn’t make out the bottom. Every time they dare to touch each other there is that undercurrent fear that they might swim too deep and hit a jagged rock or an unseen drop-off.

Shinwon feels his stomach pitch, even now. It’s not fear though. He watches Hongseok untie the strings of Changgu’s apron, ease it over his head.

He understands then that even if he could go back to that first bus ride into Seoul, that first shit part-time job he’d taken, that he wouldn’t change a thing as long as it led him back to this kitchen with these boys. He would choose this again, and again, and again.

He steps forward to kiss them both in turn, to let them know.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/gayjinho) // [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/gayjinho)


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